The British army was not provided to fight above one battle; there were no draught cattle, no means of transporting reserve ammunition, no magazines, no hospitals, no second line, no provisions: a defeat would have been ruin, a victory useless. A battle is always a serious affair; two battles in such circumstances, though both should be victories, would have been destruction. A terrible storm of wind and rain, mixed with sleet, commenced as the army broke up from the position at Lugo; the marks were destroyed, the guides lost the true direction, only one of the divisions gained the main road, the other two were bewildered, and when daylight broke the rear columns were still near to Lugo. The fatigue, the depression of mind occasioned by this misfortune, and the want of shoes broke the order of the march, stragglers became numerous, and unfortunately Baird, thinking to relieve the men during a halt which took place in the night, desired the leading division to take refuge from the weather in some houses a little way off the road. Complete disorganisation followed this imprudent act. The commander-in-chief, who covered this march with the reserve and cavalry, ordered several bridges to be destroyed, but the engineers failed of success in every attempt.
As the troops approached Corunna, on January 12th, 1809, the general’s looks were directed towards the harbour, but an expanse of water painfully convinced him that to fortune at least he was in no way beholden; contrary winds still detained the fleet at Vigo, and the last consuming exertion made by the army was rendered fruitless. The men were put into quarters, and their leader awaited the progress of events. The reserve was posted between the village of El Burgo and the road of Santiago de Compostella. For twelve days these hardy soldiers had covered the retreat, during which time they traversed eighty miles of road in two marches, passed several nights under arms in the snow of the mountains, were seven times engaged, and now took the outposts having fewer men missing from the ranks, including those who had fallen in battle, than any other division in the army: an admirable instance of the value of good discipline, and a manifest proof of the malignant injustice with which Moore has been accused of precipitating his retreat beyond the measure of human strength.
Now a painful measure was adopted; the ground in front of Corunna is impracticable for cavalry, the horses were generally foundered, it was impossible to embark them all in the face of an enemy, and a great number were reluctantly ordered to be shot; worn down and foot-broken, they would otherwise have been distributed among the French cavalry, or used as draught cattle until death relieved them from procrastinated suffering. But the very fact of their being so foundered was one of the results of inexperience; the cavalry had come out to Corunna without proper equipments, the horses were ruined, not for want of shoes but want of hammers and nails to put them on. Soon the French gathered on the Mero, and Moore sought a position of battle. On the evening of the 14th the transports from Vigo hove in sight; the dismounted cavalry, the sick, the best horses, and fifty pieces of artillery were embarked, six British and three Spanish guns being kept on shore for action. When Laborde’s division arrived, on the 15th, the French force was not less than twenty thousand men, and Soult made no idle evolutions of display. Distributing his lighter guns along the front of his position, he opened a fire from the heavy battery on his left, and instantly descended the mountain with three columns covered by clouds of skirmishers. The ground about that village was intersected by stone walls and hollow roads; a severe scrambling fight ensued, the French were forced back with great loss, but, being reinforced, renewed the fight beyond the village. Major Napier,[115] commanding the 50th, was wounded and taken prisoner, and Elvina then became the scene of another contest. The line of the skirmishers being supported vigorously, checked the advance of the enemy’s troops in the valley; at the same time the centre and left of the army also became engaged, and a furious action ensued along the line, in the valley, and on the hills. Sir John Moore, while earnestly watching the result of the fight about the village of Elvina, was struck on the left breast by a cannon-shot.
Notwithstanding this great disaster the troops gained ground, and when the night set in, their line was considerably advanced beyond the original position of the morning, while the French were falling back in confusion. Their disorder facilitated the original plan of embarking during the night. Hope, upon whom the command had devolved, resolved therefore to ship the army, and so complete were the arrangements that no confusion or difficulty occurred; the pickets kindled fires to cover the retreat, and were themselves withdrawn at daybreak to embark under the protection of Hill’s brigade, which was in position under the ramparts of Corunna.
When the morning of the sixteenth dawned, the French, seeing the British position abandoned, pushed some battalions to the heights of San Lucia, and about midday opened a battery on the shipping in the harbour. This caused great confusion amongst the transports, several masters cut their cables, and four vessels went on shore, but the troops were rescued by the men-of-war’s boats, the stranded vessels burned, and the fleet got out of harbour. Hill then embarked at the citadel, which was maintained by a rearguard under Beresford until the 18th, when, the wounded being all on board, the troops likewise embarked; the inhabitants faithfully maintained the town meanwhile, and the fleet sailed for England. The loss of the British, never officially published, was estimated at eight hundred; of the French at three thousand. The latter is probably an exaggeration, yet it must have been great.
From the spot where he fell, the general was carried to the town by his soldiers; his blood flowed fast and the torture of the wound was great; yet the unshaken firmness of his mind made those about him, seeing the resolution of his countenance, express a hope of his recovery: he looked steadfastly at the injury for a moment, and said: “No, I feel that to be impossible.” Several times he caused his attendants to stop and turn round, that he might behold the field of battle; and when the firing indicated the advance of the British, he discovered his satisfaction and permitted the bearers to proceed. When life was almost extinct, with an unsubdued spirit, as if anticipating the baseness of his posthumous calumniators, he exclaimed: “I hope the people of England will be satisfied. I hope my country will do me justice.” In a few minutes afterwards he died, and his corpse, wrapped in a military cloak, was interred by the officers of his staff in the citadel of Corunna. The guns of the enemy paid his funeral honours, and Soult with a noble feeling of respect for his valour raised a monument to his memory on the field.[b]
A Spanish Opinion of the Retreat
English historians, especially Napier,[b] are so severe in their aspersions on the Spanish that it is only fair to give the words of a Spanish historian and contemporary, the count de Toreño, who says:
“The residents of Corunna with disinterested zeal not only assisted the English, but also kept faith with them, and did not immediately surrender the fortress, a noble example rarely given by towns when they see themselves abandoned by those from whom they expected protection and aid. So ended General Moore’s retreat, censured by some among his own compatriots, upheld and even praised by others. Leaving the investigation and criticism of this campaign to military men, we are of opinion that the chance of being compelled to fight before his troops embarked, and also his having ended his days honourably on the field of battle, have lent lustre to the glory and good name of General Moore. For the rest, if a veteran well-disciplined army such as the English, provided with abundant supplies, began a retreat before combating, in the progress of which retreat there were witnessed such disorders, such damage, such scandals, who can wonder that there were disorders and confusion in the Spanish retreats, executed after fighting, with an army of raw recruits, lacking all resources, and in their own country? We do not say this to detract from British glory, but in defence of our own, so reviled by certain English writers—by those indeed who took part in this disastrous campaign.”[f]